


Debts Owed

by MrsJohnReese



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsJohnReese/pseuds/MrsJohnReese
Summary: With her brother presumed dead in the Crusades, Lady Elia must make the best of her circumstances, doing whatever possible to shield the people of Locksley from the harsher aspects of the man that has taken over her childhood home. As the risk of discovery grows, however, she will find herself facing a choice she never wanted. Loyalty to family, or her treacherous heart?
Relationships: Djaq/Will Scarlett, Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character(s), Marian of Knighton/Robin of Locksley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

"And what excuse did you offer him this time, before you ventured out?" Marian questioned, offering her companion a knowing smile, before standing back from the open doorway and allowing her friend inside her home. Though the two of them had been close since they were both small girls, recent times had made it far more difficult for the two of them to meet than they would have liked. But even in spite of those unwanted constraints on their time together, Marian took just the smallest hint of pride from the reality of her dear friend's presence in her home now, her blue eyes meeting those of her friend while she awaited an almost immediately forthcoming reply.

"I made quite the woeful tale of lacking the proper amount of meat for this evening's supper."

"Did he take you at your word?"

"Would I be here if he had not?" Elia returned, one brow lifting in response to her friend's inquiry, as she moved toward the fireplace and extended her hands to ward off some of the evening's chill by holding them above the flames, "He seemed to believe it readily enough."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know I am capable of spinning a tale when I must. Particularly when it allows me to visit a dear friend."

"Then I suppose I ought to send you back with some meat. I can hardly risk jeopardizing your lie," Marian stated, coming to stand beside her friend, and bumping her shoulder against Elia's in a gesture of good-natured camaraderie before going on, "How long do you have?"

"As long as it may take a woman to find a decent pick of meat."

"So short?"

"If I am to make an appearance at the market as well, in case questions are asked, then yes."

"Elia, if you need somewhere safe to stay—"

"Locksley Manor is my home, Marian. I cannot leave," Elia interrupted, her brow furrowing as she considered the implications behind her words, and forced herself to continue, despite the lingering sense of apprehension she felt over the duty she owed not only her family home, but the people they had looked after for years, as well, "With Robin gone, I—I am all they have."

"That does not mean you need to put yourself at so great a risk."

"Says the woman who does the exact same thing."

"That is—"

"Different?"

"In a way, yes, it is," Marian finished, aware of her friend's rather skeptical expression, and yet choosing to press her case, regardless, "I am not living under the thumb of a tyrant, at the present moment."

"Which is precisely why I have not done as you have, already."

"I can think of several individuals who would prefer that you never did."

"The majority of those individuals are dead, or likely so," Elia remarked, another frown passing over her features as she did her best to avoid lingering for too long on the reality that her own brother would likely never return home. In fact, his absence was the precise reason behind her current situation, dwelling in her home only by the supposed good graces of a man who never failed to remind her of his mercy. But no matter how fiercely she might have wished to hate her brother for abandoning her, Elia was not prepared to give in to that emotion completely, her determination to keep some small measure of hope for Robin's safe return giving her far more courage to do what needed to be done than any measure of resentment could.

"That does not mean they would wish you to risk your safety for a cause that is all but lost."

"If you truly believe all is lost, Marian, why do you still fight, yourself?"

"That is hardly a fair question," Marian protested, unable to entirely suppress the faint tug of a grin that she felt at one corner of her mouth, knowing that her dear friend had her, whether she wanted to fully admit that fact or not, "You may stop looking so pleased with yourself, Elia. I am not going to persist in my refusal to acknowledge defeat."

"Good. I should hate to think you had grown too stubborn since I last saw you."

"Perhaps if you managed to visit more often, you would not have to wonder at any changes in my personality."

"Believe me, Marian, I wish that I could," Elia assured, turning to face her friend, and exhaling a gentle sigh at the obvious regret that was apparent upon her companion's features, before reaching out to take her friend's hand before Marian could begin to pull away, "Perhaps in time, I will be able to come up with a better excuse for leaving home."

"Perhaps in time you will not need one at all."

"Perhaps."

Her one-worded reply seemed to satisfy Marian inasmuch as such a feat was truly possible, the easing of the unanticipated darkness that had come over their mood rather quickly abating as Elia watched her friend turn from the fireplace and head towards the doorway leading from the room they currently occupied, to the home's sizable kitchen. In no time at all, she had issued instruction for one of the servants to prepare a basket for Elia to carry home, only turning to move towards the woman in question once she was certain her directive would be followed to the letter. And inasmuch as Elia disliked putting Marian in such a position to start with, she was abundantly grateful for the assistance, her lips curving into a faint smile as she took the seat her friend offered beside the fire, and stifled a small laugh in response to her next words.

"I instructed the servants to prepare a basket of meat, bread, and a few vegetables, as well," Marian began, aware of her companion's inquisitive expression, and choosing to ignore it in favor of explaining her reasons before Elia could question them herself.

"After all, if you claim to have gone to market, it may as well look as though you came back with quite the catch."

Elia supposed she would have been a fool to expect anything less from her friend, when Marian had made it known time and time again that she would defy the Sheriff himself if it meant keeping her dear friend out of harm's way…

…


	2. Chapter 2

"Welcome back, my lady," Thornton greeted, hurrying forward to take the basket Marian had given her from her hands, and carrying it over towards the table while his mistress brushed her hands off on the fabric of her skirts, "You will be pleased to hear your—absence—was never noticed."

"Good," Elia replied, managing a small smile before heading towards the table, and beginning the task of unpacking the basket of its wares so that she might lay them out upon the table in proper order, "And where is our house guest?"

"Out, at the moment. I am not certain when he will return, my lady."

"Very well. Shall we see to getting all this to the kitchen for supper, then?"

"We shall," Thornton confirmed, reaching out to gently stall his mistress' hand so that he could begin placing the items she had procured with Marian's aid back inside the basket before she did so, herself, "Allow me, my lady. You ought to go and rest."

"Rest? I am hardly tired at all," Elia protested, lifting a brow as she caught the flicker of apprehension that appeared ever so briefly in Thornton's eyes, before he was averting his eyes to the task of filling the backet once more, "Thornton, what is it?"

"It is nothing, my lady—"

"Then why is it you cannot look me in the eye to say so?"

Clearly having recognized that his mistress had discerned he was troubled over something, and never having possessed the capability of denying either her, or her brother anything, Thornton exhaled as slowly as he could, while his hands slowed in their movements so that he could glance at her delicate features once more. He could remember her late father admonishing him for just such a fact, albeit gently, knowing that he, too, could never deny his children when their hearts were truly set upon one thing or another. And although the awareness had always troubled Thornton, to a degree, he once again did his best to see to his mistress' bidding, his words soft as he confessed what he had been told earlier that day, and consequently watched her reaction, upon hearing them.

"Sir Guy informed me you both were to dine with the Sheriff in a night's time. Apparently, there is something that he wishes to discuss."

"And he cannot come here to do it?" Elia replied, the faintest hints of bitterness entering her tone, despite her knowledge that the news she had just been given was something Thornton had hardly wished to disclose, "Why is that, I wonder?"

"I am afraid you already know, my lady."

"Indeed, I believe that I do."

"There is still time to make alternative arrangements," Thornton advised, noting how his mistress' eyes seemed to have gone dull, where moments before they were sparkling with their usual amusement and tender-hearted grace, "Your mother's cousin, perhaps, or Lady Marian and her father—"

"I will not bring my troubles to another's door, Thornton. You know that."

"But my lady—"

"I will not," Elia repeated, steel working its way into her words while she straightened her back in abject defiance of the suggestion on the whole, "If I were to run, Gisborne would send his men after me in an instant. Any who sheltered me would be punished."

"But what of you, my lady? Will tying yourself to this man not be punishment in and of itself?"

"I will still have my home. And I will still be capable of doing what I can to help those around us. That will—it will have to be enough, Thornton. For you, and for me."

Recognizing the determination in his mistress' tone, Thornton managed a simple nod, one hand reaching out for her own in order to give it a reassuring squeeze. It would have been a lie for him to say that he enjoyed the prospect of the young girl standing before him tying herself in any way to the man who now ruled over her family home. A man with a cruel nature, and enough self-importance to rival the Sheriff himself, Guy of Gisborne was hardly the sort of suitor he believed Elia deserved. She had always been a kind and gentle soul, even with her brother's more mischievous influence when she was still but a little girl. And it pained him to think that she would be brought beneath the thumb of a man many knew held affection for another, leaving her to be either the source of an heir, or an abandoned relic that was to be kept out of the way save for when decorum required her presence.

Still, he knew that he had very little to say on the matter, whether he wanted that responsibility upon his shoulders, or not. He was not her father. Far from it, in fact. And so he would have to simply stand by as the young woman accepted her fate, doing his best to keep her confidence as best he could while simultaneously protecting her from her new master.

Her potential new husband.

Thornton could only imagine her father's reaction, were he alive to see such a thing come to pass, and the old man supposed that this may just be one of the very few moments he was glad of his former master's demise. To live to see the girl he loved so dearly given to one who would never appreciate her—who could not possibly make her happy—it would have torn the man apart. He would never have allowed his daughter to enter into a union with such a man. Not until the very last breath had left his body.

But the former Lord of Locksley was no longer around to protest, and Thornton and Elia both knew that the rights a woman had in choosing her future path were very limited, indeed.

Disheartened by the notion, but yet determined to avoid allowing his mistress to see exactly how much it troubled him, Thornton once again resettled his attentions to the basket now held in his arms, his feet carrying him towards the kitchen while he simultaneously turned back to glance at Elia one final time, before issuing his request.

"Rest, my dear girl. I trust Sir Guy will require a full recounting of your day when he returns, and it would not reduce his suspicions if you were yawning your way through dinner."

Try though she might to deny it, Elia knew very well that Thornton was right, and so in spite of her lack of exhaustion she turned and made her way towards the staircase that would lead her to her rooms, a soft laugh passing her lips as she placed a slender hand upon the railing and began to ascend.

If nothing else, perhaps she might do her best to persuade Sir Guy to reconsider his wish to acquiesce to the Sheriff's impending decree the next night at dinner by simply remaining as shrewd and elusive as she had always been to his attempts to draw her away from her hopes for her brother's return, and to his way of thinking, instead…

…

Later that evening found Elia seated at the dining table that had once housed so many more than the meager number it did at the present, her eyes occasionally drifting across the table towards her leather-clad companion as though daring him to initiate the conversation that had as yet not arisen between them on his own. For his part, Sir Guy was almost entirely absorbed in his meal, having only commented at its inception that he hoped her trip to market had not been too tiring. But now, Elia found herself rather determined to get some manner of a rise out of him, even if the wiser part of her knew that perhaps his silence was best, her shoulders squaring just a bit as she placed her fork beside her plate with a soft clink, and exhaled to steady her nerves before she spoke.

"What did you do today, Sir Guy?"

"Would my response truly interest you?" The man replied, glancing up from his own plate so that cold blue eyes landed upon the woman seated across from him in mere moments, "That, Elia, would surprise me a great deal."

"And if I told you that surprise was precisely the element I was going for?"

"I would be certain you had gone mad."

Unable to resist the laugh that sprang from her lips, and doing her best to ignore its obviously mocking quality, Elia shifted in her chair so that she was leaning just a bit closer toward the man who now shared her family home with her, her own eyes rather diligently locking with his own in spite of her instinctive desire to look away. She knew that Guy of Gisborne was not a man to be toyed with. He was not one to take any perceived slight lightly. But in spite of that, Elia also knew that no matter how frustrated he may grow with her behavior, he was not quite so confident as to do anything to directly harm her, and that thought alone made her bold enough to place both elbows upon the table so that she might rest her chin atop her entwined hands before she replied.

"Perhaps I have. Left to myself, more often than not, would it truly be any wonder if I had?"

"Do not mock me, Elia."

"Is it mockery, now, to speak the truth?"

"It seems foolish when I have allowed you to continue your life, as normal, despite having reason to wonder if you will use my generosity against me," Guy remarked, aware of the almost automatically quirked brow he received in response, and yet choosing to ignore it in favor of going on, "You know as well as I your fate could have been far worse."

"So I am insane, and a fool. Wonderful."

"That is not what I meant."

"Perhaps you ought to speak more clearly, then."

"I am speaking clearly enough as it is," The man disagreed, the flash of fire in Elia's eyes hardly deterring him as he abandoned his cursory investigation of her features, and turned his attention instead to the remnants of the meal upon his plate, "This conversation is over."

"But you have neglected to answer my question," Elia protested, stifling the lingering aggravation she felt over having to share her home with such a man to begin with, and forcing her tone into something far more becoming of a lady of her title and station, instead, "If I did not know any better, I would call that particularly rude, wouldn't you?"

"Elia—"

"The question was innocent enough, Sir Guy. One wonders if, by your lack of response, I might infer that your activities themselves were far less than innocent."

The look she earned in response almost had a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of her mouth—almost—the glower that crossed Sir Guy's features indicating that he knew fully well she had him backed into a corner. Though she had never been so foolish as to believe he had the best interests of Locksley Manor at heart, she was poignantly aware that any persistence in evading her recent inquiry would only confirm her continued suspicions wholeheartedly, and Guy knew it, too. Since he had taken up residence in her home, he had endeavored to at least pretend that his motives were not so detestable, and she, for her part, had done her best to pretend that she believed his act to be genuine. Perhaps it was not ideal, but for both of them it presented a tenuous means of survival that had only grown simpler to accept with each passing day.

Guy would be damned if he allowed that tentative progress to fracture now, all because he had permitted his surly disposition that particular evening to give Elia all the room she needed to wriggle her way beneath his skin.

"I spent the day visiting various tenants to collect their taxes. Nothing more, nothing less."

"All of them were able to pay, then?"

"Pardon?"

"I asked if all of the tenants were able to pay," Elia said once again, her eyes once again meeting her companion's from across the table, while the fingers of her left hand dug absently into the wood of the table, "You claim to have done nothing more than collect, so I am left to believe you were not forced to mete out punishment, as well."

"Always you seek to read between my words—"

"That is because there is, more often than not, a hidden meaning that you do not wish to disclose."

"Perhaps I should endeavor to find you a hobby, the next time I venture out alone," Sir Guy quipped, his face remaining expressionless so that it was impossible to tell if his comment were a simple jest, or something else entirely, "If you had more tasks to occupy your time, you might spend less of it thinking the worst of me."

"I have plenty to occupy my time, Sir Guy. And these are my people you collect from. Their welfare falls well within my range of concern."

"Then why must you persist in tormenting me?"

"Tormenting you?" Elia breathed, her voice raising in incredulity despite her initial desire to maintain an even temper, "How, pray tell, am I tormenting you?"

"You know very well how," Guy spat, finally abandoning the remnants of his meal entirely in favor of directing his gaze to rest upon the young woman who so clearly endeavored to defy and irk him at every turn, "Do not make me repeat it to you just for the sake of your amusement."

"Fine. I shall not make you repeat it. Would you care, instead, to tell me exactly why the bloody Sherriff wants us at dinner, tomorrow?"

She could tell, just from the way in which Gisborne's features had darkened, that he was angered by her remark, the realization allowing her to acknowledge a grim sort of selfish satisfaction despite the fact that she knew full well she had stepped out of line. It had always been difficult for her to keep her temper with the man seated across from her, despite knowing that life would be far easier for her if she remained the dutiful, and preferably silent lady of the manor that he expected her to be. But whether it was the prospect of never escaping him at all, or the bitter loneliness brought about by any lengthy consideration of her brother's absence that prompted her recklessness tonight, Elia would never know, her entire body freezing in place as she realized Guy had pushed his chair back from the table, and was now towering above her, at full height while he spoke.

"You will discover his reasons on the morrow. And you will not question them while we are in his company, is that understood?"

"Sir Guy—"

"Is that understood?" Gisborne pressed, pressing his hands, palms flat, upon the table so that he was leaning over his plate, blue eyes fixed upon Elia's lighter ones while he awaited her reply. She could practically feel the anger reverberating from him in waves, and she was all but certain that she knew why it was present, to begin with. But, knowing that she had already tempted fate enough, at least for the evening in question, she resisted the urge to comment on how the both of them knew precisely what he wished the Sheriff would tell him, a short nod serving as her more docile response as she watched him with bated breath until he once again resumed his seat and picked up his fork as though nothing had gone amiss, at all.

"Good. I trust we can both manage to survive the evening so long as we keep ourselves in check."

Though she did not say anything in response, choosing instead to duck her head back down to gaze at the contents of her plate, Elia recognized the comment for precisely what it was. Sir Guy may have mentioned the two of them, in an effort to seem less domineering than they both knew he was. But Elia would have been a fool, indeed, if she failed to recognize the particular tenor of the statement, and take measures to act, accordingly.

It was a threat, pure and simple, and despite her fierce desire to remain aloof, Elia could not help but acknowledge the grim shiver of fear that raced down her spine, in response.

She had never yearned for Robin's return more than she had in this very moment, even though she knew very well that was a reality that would likely never come.

…


End file.
